I am Mayan Lord Chocolate. With one palm up and one palm down, I sat there on the stone throne looking out at the ruins. I could sense the grandeur and once admirable power. Tikal was the capital of one of the most powerful kingdoms of ancient Maya.
Walking past the first pyramid, multiple hills lined the path. They weren’t hills; they were unexcavated pyramids covered by trees, grass, and possibly weakened by roots.
We watched as the sun set behind the tall jungle that represented how long the ruins had been abandoned for. I was again reminded of its vastness. The park stretches into Belize and Mexico. A childhood poem popped in my head.
I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: `Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear —
“My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!”
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.’
Percy Bysshe Shelley